


To Dance, is to Fly

by moonagedreamer



Category: Dance Academy
Genre: Movie AU, Multi, sammy is alive (obviously), somebody has to keep this fandom alive, yes i’m writing dance academy fanfic in 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonagedreamer/pseuds/moonagedreamer
Summary: A year after the accident that ended Tara's career, she's decided to spend the summer in New York.  She knows she'll never dance again, but maybe she can still have some fun with Abigail, Kat, Sammy, and the new friends she makes.Movie AU where Tara still fell at her audition but her life afterwards is completely different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long ass time in the coming annie, but here, finally, is the first two chapters of this stupidly wonderful story. couldn't have done it without you.

Tara buckled her seatbelt, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. In the background she could vaguely hear the stewardess announcing the safety precautions, but she wasn’t paying much attention. This was her first time on an airplane and Tara was ready to fly. It seemed like for the past year, ever since her accident, she’d been stuck closer to the ground than ever. She just wait to get off the ground and away from Australia.

As the airplane started to taxi towards the take off mat, Tara was struck with a childhood memory. Back in the day, when she was small and life was simple, she’d lay down in the pasture at the farm and watch the airplanes pass overhead. She’d make up stories about the people she imagined were inside of the cabins. sometimes they’d be Americans, always based off of characters from whatever American tv show she was able to watch on tv. Back then, on the farm, Tara never imagined getting to go to America. It always seemed like some far off land, where everything was upside down and backwards, and the accents were funny and no one had ever heard of any good Australian singers.

But here Tara was, on a direct flight from Sydney to New York. She was leaving everything behind to train and recover, and maybe even dance again. Tara glanced above her, where deep within the overhead compartment, her pointe shoes were hidden in her suitcase. She had no idea when she’d be dancing again. She no idea if she was strong enough for rehabilitation. She no idea if she could even love dance again. But Tara knew one thing for certain. She’d never wear pearls again for as long as she lived.

 

***

 

Tara spent the entire flight imaging and daydreaming about New York.  She could see the bright dance studios and the tall shimmery buildings.  She could feel the magic of the city already.  See, Tara knew, rationally, that there wasn’t anything magical about New York City really.  It was dirty, crowded, and more dreams were broken than fulfilled.  But Tara had hope that in New York things would finally be different.  After spending a year suffering in physical therapy, hope was all that Tara had left.

As she tried to find her way around LaGuardia airport, Tara couldn’t help but wish that she wasn’t alone.  Sammy and Christian were back home in Sydney, Kat was in LA dancing for some kid’s show, and Abigail was in Manhattan.  Sure, she was only a few miles away, but as Tara became more and more lost in the airport’s convoluted terminals, a few miles felt like a few light years.  It had been Abigail who had convinced her to come out to New York in the first place.  

***

In the months after the accident, Tara was home on the farm, locked in a fog that no one and nothing had been able to penetrate.  If she wasn’t at physical therapy or eating, she was sleeping.  Everyone was so worried.  At first Christian had been supportive and gently tried to push Tara back into the world.  But when even he couldn’t bring her out of her depression, he stopped coming round every day.  He moved back to Sydney and texted Tara only sometimes.  Tara was too tired to care.  

Her parents got her to agree to see a therapist, one that was for her mental health rather than her stupid broken back.  The therapist told Tara that the trauma of the incident was affecting her deeply, and that’s why she was so out of it.  Being told something so unbelievably obvious just made Tara mad.  

In a fit of annoyance she called Abigail.  She vented to Abigail for as long as her long distance call charges would let her, and after a few minutes of trying to explain why she felt so lost, Abigail cut her off.

“Alright, Tara I get it okay? Stop the pity party.  Listen, I really do feel sorry for you.  I have no idea what I would have done if I had broken my back,” Abigail voice crackled over the phone. Tara winced at the mention of her accident.

“But enough is enough,” Abigail continued, ”We’re all tired of seeing you mope around all day miserable.  I really don’t mind you calling, but all this negativity is stressing me out, and stress is really bad for my flexability, you know that. Tara, if you’re so unhappy, why stay there?”

“Where else could I go?  Sydney just reminds me of the accident.  Home makes me feel restless and trapped.”

“It’s so obvious Tara. Come here!”, Abigail said, sounding both annoyed and excited.

“What, New York City? I can’t”

“Why not?  You’ve always wanted to come to New York, don’t try to deny that. New York has the best dance scene, the best theater, and the best opportunities.  And it’s not as if you have anything better to do’

“I don’t know Ab...” Tara trailed off, trying to come up with argument that Abigail wouldn’t shoot down within a second.

“You know I’m right Tara.  You’d love it here,” Abigail declared.

“If I did move to New York, if that was even remotely possible, what would I be doing?  I can wait Austrailian tables the same as American ones,” Tara said.

“Tara, isn’t it obvious? You’d dance here, what else?”

“Dance! Har har, that’s not even remotely funny,” Tara huffed.

“Since when do I make jokes?” Abigail asked, her voice as deadly serious as always. “Tara, I know you, and I find it hard to believe that you’ve given up on your dream so easily.  I think you’re like the only person I know who wants this as badly as I do. Or at least, you were”

Tara’s stomach flipped as Abigail spoke.  It had been almost a year but the wound of the accident was still fresh.  As much as she acted as if she were okay with giving up on dancing, she knew that deep down, it would always be what she wanted.  She couldn’t imagine a world in which her body would let her dance again, but she also couldn’t imagine world without dance.  It was this paradox that kept her awake at night.

“ I-I’ve given up on-” Tara stumbled

“Tara, take a leap.  Come to New York for the summer.  We can dance together, just for fun.  No pressure.  If by August you’re still decided that dance isn’t worth the heartache, you can go back to and be miserable in Sydney.  But just give the city a chance,” Abigail sounded the most sincere Tara had ever heard her.

Finally, after more back and forth squabbling, Tara agreed.  She’d give New York, and herself, a chance.

 

***

Tara finally escaped from Queens and as her taxi drove through midtown Manhattan, and all of the misgivings she’d had about coming to New York faded away.  It didn’t matter that she hadn’t danced in 11 months, or that Christian was a world away, or even that she actually didn’t have a job.  Because New York was so full of possibility, and since Tara was a dreamer at heart, she was hooked.  


	2. Chapter 2

Strike that. New York was gross and terrible and Tara had no idea why she even agreed to come. As soon she had stepped foot into apartment building, the bright and shiny New York she had imagined dimmed immediately.  The lobby’s lights were flickering ominously and the whole room smelled like vomit. The elevator was broken and Tara was stuck dragging here two, _very heavy_ suitcases up 5 flights.

Weeks ago, when she was making her plans to come to New York, Tara knew that she could not, under any circumstances, live with Abigail again. Though over the years Tara had grown to love Abigail, she really was the most insufferable roommate. She woke up at 6 am and did her stretches in the loudest way possible. She touched Tara’s things and complained if the beds weren't made every morning.  She stole Tara’s snacks and then blamed it on Kat.  Tara couldn't imagine spending even a night in Abigail’s studio and she knew that Abigail felt the same way. She enjoyed her own space.  So she had happily found Tara some roommates.

Apparently two girls from the company were looking for a third roommate. The only information about them that Tara had gotten from Abigail was that they were two of the strangest people Abigail had met in New York (which Tara took to mean that they were actually very fun) and that they were also two of the best dancers in the company.  Tara was specifically told not to make Abigail look bad.  Tara promised she’d try her best.

Tara was 11 months out of shape, and after an embarrassingly long trek up the stairs, she plopped herself down onto the hallway, ignoring the faint stains on the carpet.  As she caught her breath, she pulled out her phone.  One text from Abigail, asking about the mysterious roommates.  Tara ignored that.  

She opened her conversation with Christian.  Nothing.  The last text he sent her was yesterday before she left for the airport.  All he had said was “have a nice flight”.  It was the most infuriating text Tara had ever received.  At the moment, she had no idea where stood with Christian.  She wasn’t sure if they were together or broken up.  He’d come to see her the week before she left and they had their goodbyes.  Christian had been distant and Tara was bitter and the entire 2 hours they’d been together was uncomfortable.  When he left, she’d tried to kiss him goodbye, but Christian just turned his head and walk right out the door.  She’d called him later that evening and asked if they were over, but Christian just mumbled something stupid about taking the summer to be alone.  

It was unlike him to be so wishy washy.  Tara was used to Christian always saying exactly what was on his mind.  It was actually his most annoying trait.  Now Tara was desperate for him to say anything.  Even if he was going to dump her, she just wanted to get it over with.  It’d be better than having their failing relationship hanging over her head the entire summer.  She knew that these 3 coming months apart would either make or break her and Christian.  And, honestly, Tara had no idea how things would turn out.  

She finally dragged herself up off the hallway floor.  She was kind of nervous to meet her new roommates.  If Abigail was intimidated by them, they must be amazing.  Tara imagined them tall and slender, their elbows sharp and and collar bones pushed out far.  They were probably two perfect ballerinas, destined to be principal dancers within a year or two.

As Tara knocked on the apartment door, she stood a little taller, ignoring how stiff her back way.  Even if she wasn’t a dancer any longer, she could still show off her ballet posture. It’d help her feel like she actually belonged with these girls.

After a few seconds, the door flew open and standing in the doorway was a girl much shorter than Tara.  She had brown curly hair and an easy smile.  She was wearing socks with Albert Einstein on them, black exercise shorts, and a sweatshirt that had “ _if you’re not colin firth then fonk right off bonk_ ” across the chest.  Tara had no idea what that even meant but she still thought it was funny.

“Hey! You must be Tara,” the girl said, reaching out to help Tara with her bags. “Isy!!!! Get your ass in here and help with the luggage!” she shouted into the apartment.

The girl moved out of the way and let Tara through the doorway.  As the front door shut behind Tara, she took in the sights around her.  They were in the apartment’s kitchen.  There were dirty dishes in the sink, and food still out on the counter.  The walls were decorated with posters and pictures.  The fridge was covered in magnets.  Everything in the room had clearly been bought at a yard sale or pick up off the street.  The chairs at the breakfast bar were all different and one was a full foot shorter than the other two, looking like something bought in the children’s section of Ikea.  The room was weird and unlike any other kitchen she had seen before.  Tara loved it.

“I’m Annie, by the way.  I don’t know if I said that before”

“I’m Tara Webster,” Tara stuck her hand out.  “But... you already knew that,” she continued, embarrassed.  God, she was so bad at introductions.

“Oh yeah, Tara. Got it,” Annie said, then looked through the doorway into what looked like the living area. “Our other roommate is Isy. She is _suppose_ to be in here. She’s probably in her room writing.  She’s really into fan fic.  Well, I am too.  Ignore that fact that we’re both 20,” she joked.

Tara liked her already.  She had a very easy way about her.  She’d only met the girl a minute ago but Tara could tell she was unlike anything she’d imagined.  Clearly Annie and Isy were not the uber intense type of ballerinas she’d known in school.  

As Tara was about to bring up the Harry Potter fan fic she used to read in middle school when the girl who must be Isy walked into the kitchen.  She was just as short as Annie, maybe a full 4 inches shorter than Tara.   She was wearing a pair of Nike running shorts and a Star Trek t-shirt.  She had a face mask on and her brown hair was tied into a high loose bun, not a tight bun that she must wear every day in practice.  

“Oh hey, the new roommate is here!  I’m Isy,” she held out her hand and squinted at Tara. “I don’t have my glasses on right now so I can’t actually see your face but I’m sure it’s very nice”

Tara laughed. “My face is alright.  It probably looks worse after my flight”

The girl each grabbed one of the suitcases and led Tara into the living.  It was a small room, with just a couch, rug, a tall lamp, and a tv set up on a table.  On the screen wasn’t any tv show or movie tara recognized.  

“What are you guys watching?” she asked.

Both of the girls looked at each other, properly embarrassed. Annie’s eye went wide and Isy bit her lip.  “Oh... we were watching a vine compilation,” Annie said.

“And yes we know it’s 2017.  We just never got over the shutdown of Vine,” Isy offered. “It’s sad but that website was like our life.”

This got Tara excited.“Oh! I love vine! My favorite one was the one with the girl who cut her own bangs!” she said excitedly.

As Tara said this. both girls gave the same kind of happy shriek.

“Yes! Oh my god, that’s our favorite vine!” Isy said, dropping the suitcase and clapping her hands together.

“ _All I fucking wanted was fucking bangs_ ,” Annie quoted, her hands covering her forehead like fringe.

“That’s the one!” Tara was happy to have something to joke about with her new roommates.

“Annie, remember that time you got bangs?” Isy asked, giving a sly grin.

Annie smacked Isy playfully and said, “Isy. Shut up I swear to god.”

“Wanna see a picture?” Isy asked Tara, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

Tara was absolutely certain she was going to get along with these two. This apartment building may be crappy, but Tara was excited to call it home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Against all odds, this fic is still alive. Not sure why lol. Anyway, chapters in this fic are going to be shorter, at least right now in the beginning. Still lots more to come!

An alarm coming from some other room tore Tara out of her deep sleep.  She blearily opened her eyes.  Her limbs felt like they each weighed 50 kilos. The room was way too bright.  She rolled over and checked her phone.  She had gotten at least 9 hours of sleep; it was nearly 10 in the morning. Ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the night back in Sydney, she threw the blankets off and moved to get dressed.  She had no idea that jet lag was going to leave her feeling this tired. 

Last night, after she had gotten in, she had stayed up for an hour with Annie and Isy watching funny Youtube videos.  They both had the same kind of terrible sense of humor but Tara was polite enough to laugh at everything they’d shown her.  There was this one video that had just been a mash up of Adam Driver interview clips but they were both in hysterics over it.  Maybe she just didn’t understand American humor, Tara thought to herself. 

Either way, Annie and Isy were both really welcoming. They seemed really easy going and Tara was waiting for the perfect time to ask them about their dancing.  Just weeks ago, the thought of living with two  _ successful _ and  _ elite _ ballerinas would have been enough to send Tara running for the hills.  These girls were different than any of the ballet girls she’d known at the academy, though, sans Kat.  Her best friend was who they reminded her of the most.  This was a very comforting realization.  Maybe they didn’t take dance so seriously?

Just then, Annie knocked at Tara’s door.  

“Yah?” Tara called.

Annie poked her head in room.  “Hey, me and Isy were gonna go for a jog. Wanna come?” she asked.

From out in the hall Isy called, “We’re gonna head to Central Park! Prime sightseeing opportunity!”

Tara could never resist a corny sightseeing excursion.  Central Park had always seemed so neat on tv.  She still felt half asleep, but she agreed to come, “Sure, but only if we get some brunch after!”

The girls couldn’t say no to that, and 10 minutes later, the three of them set out at an easy pace.  Isy told Tara they were running through the West side, from their apartment in midtown to the Upper West side by the park. As they ran, Tara stared at everything around them.  Her neck almost hurt from trying to see every tall building they passed.  The streets were buzzing with life and Tara felt very much like an ant in a colony.  At home she normally felt very self conscious when she jogged but here nobody was giving them a second glance.  They were just another three young girls.  One of millions.  This anonymity was thrilling and terrifying and Tara tried to brush it off as she ran to catch up with her roommates. 

After maybe a dozen blocks, Tara was ready to collapse.  Her lungs burned and legs were sore.  She was 11 months out of shape after all.  As Tara glanced at the girls beside her she was confronted. Isy was completely red in the face and Annie’s back was kind of sweaty.  Tara was nice enough to not say anything but was secretly vindicated that she wasn’t the only one who was  _ feeling _ the past mile. 

Tara had closed her eyes and was silently begging some higher power to save her from the pain of mild exercise when Isy suddenly called out, “Oh shit, I forgot that street sent us past the company.  I can’t look at it, I’m getting hives just thinking about last practice!”

“Arhghghh, let’s just run past and pretend we don’t have to be there tonight,” Annie groaned beside her. 

Tara opened her eyes and found herself no longer on the typical Manhattan street.  They were at Lincoln Center, and right in front of her was the David H. Koch Theater, where the New York Ballet danced. Tara knew this because she’d had a poster of it on her wall for years. She immediately stopped in her tracks. 

“Oh my god. I had no idea we’d be running right past the theater,” she said, eyes bright.  “I’ve always wanted to come to see the ballet here, ever since I was a little girl.”

Annie and Isy had stopped running as well and were now coming up behind Tara. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s very cool to see it for the first time but you’ll have plenty of chances to take in the glory when you come to the performances. For right now, I wanna finish our run so we can grab something eat,” Isy said, grabbing Tara’s arm and pulling her back towards the sidewalk.

“We can show you picture of  _ inside _ the pretty building when we’re at lunch,” Annie suggested, the three of them jogging once more. 

“Ooooo I have to show you the ones I took of everyone in the corps’ feet,” Isy said.

“Oh god, please don’t! I’ve seen enough blisters in my life,” Tara scrunched up her face in disgust.  They three of them laughed as they reached the park. 

***

An hour later Tara, Annie, and Isy sat around a table at what Isy had declared “the best Greek diner in the city”.  They all munched on their meals while sharing ballet horror stories of their childhoods.  Tara found out that Isy and Annie were both from some city in Rhode Island, which they insisted Tara had to come visit sometime. 

Annie and Isy seemed to telling each others stories for one another, making it obvious they’d been ballet friends since childhood.  So far Tara’s favorites included the time Annie threw up backstage on someones’ gym bag and still performed, or when Isy was badly sunburned from the beach and it hurt too much to put makeup on.  The stories had Tara cracking up and rushing to tell them of the time she accidentally got undressed in the boys locker room during her audition for the academy.  Of course, as soon as she finished, she only got sad at the reminder of Christian.  When Isy brought up the time she decided to wear her old pointe shoes outside and slipped on ice into the street, it only brought Tara anxiety when she thought of her own fall.

Annie and Isy quickly realized they were the only ones laughing and made eye contact over the table. 

“Hey, Tara, you okay?” Annie asked, her eyes full of concern.  

It shocked Tara how much these girls seemed to care for her after less than 24 hours. They both looked over at Tara with supportive smiles. Annie tilted her head to the side and Isy stirred her water.  She really didn’t want to ruin the mood. They all been having so much fun.  Explaining her accident wasn’t worth the trouble.  Earlier, when they had started discussing ballet, Tara had simply said that she had just stopped dancing after graduation. That’s all they really needed to know. 

“I’m fine,” Tara said, a fake smile tugging at corners of the mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

In the following days, Tara found herself some sort of routine.  Every day while Annie and Isy were out at practice, Tara went looking for a job.  This meant hours of walking around Manhattan, poking her head into any coffee shop, pizza place, or fast food restaurants she came across.  Even after 3 days on the job hunt, she had absolutely nothing to show for it. It seemed like there were just no open positions in New York. Even for busing tables, which Tara had offered to do at three separate Thai restaurants.  Whoever had termed America as “the land of opportunity” was a bold faced liar. 

Tara was tempted to text Abigail for help but she had specifically texted Tara her first day in the city to say that’d she was busy with dance all week, and that Tara shouldn’t text or call her until Saturday at the earliest, and if Tara ever found herself confused or bored she could use her own, fully functioning brain to figure it out.  

Every night, around 10pm, Tara’s roommates returned from practice. They sat in the living room chatting while they iced, lotioned, and bandaged their broken feet.  They were both soloists, and they each spent nearly 9 hours a day dancing.

Every night they also pestered Tara to come with them to a practice.

“You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to you, but it’s really cool in there. You’d like all the dancers,” Isy said, while massaging something minty into her shoulders. 

“You seemed so interested in the theater when we ran past before, Tara,” Annie observed as she stole globs of Isy’s minty lotion. 

“Yeah, Annie’s right. Plus, I want to show you the outfits they’re working on for our upcoming performance!” Isy said excitedly. 

Tara knew Annie and Isy were only trying to hang out with her.  And normally, Tara would have visited the theater as soon as they let her.  But Tara wasn’t the same bright-eyed dancer of her youth. She couldn’t help but be jaded.  Yes, she admired the theater from outside. And yes, she’d love to explore inside and maybe even see a practice.  But Tara knew that going with Annie and Isy meant seeing them doing what Tara still longed to do. It meant meeting dozens of people who were much luckier than she was.  It meant seeing everything she had always dreamed of but now could never have. She was afraid the visit would bring her back to the poor emotional state she was in a couple of months ago. 

“Oh, I don’t know guys,” Tara feigned contemplation, “I still don’t have a job.  Can’t stand to waste a whole day at the theater.”

“Waste?” Isy cried indignantly, “You’re wasting your time walking around midtown all day, Tara.  Just find some openings online and apply over the phone. Or I could ask some company friends for a hookup. It’d make things way easier for you,” Isy said, softer this time. 

“Plus tomorrow they’re catering lunch for us, since it’s one of our first practices for the new show.  _ Perogies _ . It supposed to be some good shit,” Annie added. 

At this, Tara realized these two would never let up. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll come for your “bring your child to work day” thing. But only until after lunch. Then I’m coming back to look for work and you two can focus on your dancing,” Tara gave in, throwing up her hands in defeat. 

She got up and went into the kitchen for something to eat, escaping the girls’ many celebratory high fives. 

***

The next day, Isy came barging into Tara’s room at 5:30 am and woke her up by flickering the lights on and off. Of course the evil bugger just laughed as Tara cursed her.  

“Wake up Tara, it’s time to  _ daaaancceee _ ,” she sung.

Tara couldn’t remember the last time she willingly woke up before 7.  It was still dark out, and it felt a bit like she was still dreaming. Slowly, she dragged herself out of the bed and threw on the outfit she left out the night before.  She decided she’d wear the least dance appropriate outfit to keep the girls from trying to get Tara to dance. She was wearing jeans, a top, and flip flops. Tara really didn’t think  anyone would suggest she join in on the practice, it was a professional dance company after all. But Isy and Annie had their ways. She couldn’t take any chances.

The girls were already waiting in the kitchen for Tara, eating their breakfast around the small round table with the miss-matched chairs.  Isy was eating oatmeal in the kid’s chair, sitting so low to the ground that she had to almost reach up to her bowl. Tara cracked up when she saw her, feeling a lot more relaxed about the visit.

Isy saw that Tara laughed, and feeling accomplished, climbed back into her actual chair and finished her meal at a normal height. 

All three of them headed out the door minutes later, all a bit quiet. Tara was stuck in her head about what the company was going to be like, Annie was scrolling on her Instagram, and Isy was just half asleep. 

As they stepped onto the street, Annie turned to Tara, suddenly excited.

“Tara, this is gonna be your first time on the subway, right?”

Tara opened her mouth to object, but realized that she actually hadn’t been on the subway yet. She had been avoiding it for the past week. She was afraid she’d read the signs wrong and end up on the opposite side of the Hudson. 

“Yea, it will be. Wow, does this mean I’ll be an official New Yorker?

“Nah, you’re still way too nice to be from New York,” Annie replied with a snort. 

***

Fifteen minutes later, the girls were standing in the lobby of the theater, and Tara suddenly felt so incredibly stupid for wearing flip flops.  Everyone around her was young, beautiful, and graceful. Dancers raced by in a flash of lycra and tule. Tara craned her neck to see the marble ceiling, colored gold in the warm lighting, and towering high above them. The soft sounds of a pianist warming up danced and echoed around the large room.  Annie pulled her towards the grand staircase and away from the theater. Upstairs, everything was still just as fancy and beautiful and the sound of Tara’s flip flops banging against the polished stone floors made her wince. She wondered if she could make it even more obvious she didn’t belong here.  

Trying to duck her face from view, Tara followed Isy and Annie into the practice room.  It was a typical ballet practice room, with wooden floors, a wall of mirrors, barres, and piles of dance bags thrown up against a far wall.  All over, dancers were stretching and chatting. Annie and Isy said their hellos before retreating into the corner. 

Tara sat with the girls as they readied their pointe shoes.  Annie liked to bend hers and then sit on them to loosen the sole.  Isy just whacked hers against the floor. Tara groaned as the sound of the pointe shoe slapping wood drew the attention of many.  Most just shrugged, seemingly used to the antics of these soloists. One boy from across the room, however, looked up from his stretches and smiled.

Tara’s breath caught when she saw him and she cursed herself for being so annoyingly cliched. She really couldn’t help herself, the boy really was just that beautiful.  His deep skin and strong arms had her swooning internally. She tried not to stare at him, but their eyes met. He gave her a small wave and Tara, suddenly without control of her limbs, waved back.  She hoped she didn’t look as dopy as she felt, her cheeks pink. Then, to her horror, the boy got up and started walking towards them. 

“Oh, christ,” Tara said in a panic, eyes instinctually darting around the room looking for somewhere to hide.

At this, Annie looked up with her brows furrowed. “What?” she asked and she turn around, looking. She saw the boy coming and bounded off the ground with a grin. 

Annie jogged to meet the him in the middle of the room and the two of them started doing some sort of intricate and silly handshake that ended with the two of them playfully smacking each other on the butt.  Isy just laughed from her seat on the ground and Tara’s face flamed even harder when she realized she’d made a fool of herself in front of a clear friend of the girls. 

When Annie and the guy walked over, Tara tried to school her features and look as cool and relaxed as possible.  Annie flopped back down next to Tara. The boy seemed to float down to the ground, his long limbs impossibly graceful.  His expression was calm and open, and his brown eyes was crinkled in the kindest way. 

“Tara, this is Colin. Our favorite male soloist in the company,” Isy said.

“And Colin, this is Tara our new roommate, our favorite Australian person,” Annie finished. 

Colin laughed as he stuck out his hand from across the little circle they’d formed.  

“Don’t listen to them, Tara.  They say that about all of their Australian roommates.”

Tara reached out and shook his hand.  It was warm and smooth and perfect and Tara tried to not feel too creepy about thinking that.

“To be fair, I don’t know if I’d say Isy and Annie are my favorite Americans, so...”

“Wow! Fake bonk,” Isy and Annie said at the same time.

“JINX,” they said in unison again, high fiving loudly.

“They’re always like this,” Colin said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have someone to finish your sentences, Colin,” Isy replied. “And wait! Tara! Who’s your favorite American then?”

“Oh yeah, this better be good Tara. Like Keanu Reeves or someone just as hot,” Annie said.

“Oh god, not more Keanu talk. I thought we all agreed that River Phoenix was sexier?” Colin asked. 

“No no no, we definitely decided that the Jeff Goldblum was the hottest,” Isy interjected.

“Nah, Jeff wasn’t the hottest, he was the  _ oldest _ ,” Annie said.

“Take that back!”

“No, Isy, she has a point,” Colin offered. “Like, sure he was hot in Jurassic Park. Those leather pants were something else. But remember Thor 3? He was like your fun uncle in that.”

“What?! He had eyeliner on!” 

“Shitttttt, that’s a good point,” Annie said, now nodding her head.

“Eyeliner does not a man make,” Colin said seriously. 

“Okay, Mr. I-Had-One-Boyfriend-So-That-Makes-Me-A-Guy-Expert, what “makes” a man then?” Isy said pleased with her dig at Colin. 

“Fine, Ms. I’ve-Never-Had-A-Boyfriend-Because-I’m-In-Love-With-Winona-Ryder. I’ll tell you,” Colin started, “what makes a man is 100%, unquestionably, no doubt his shoulders.” 

The group all nodded along at that piece of wisdom and Isy knew she was defeated. 

“Honestly... true.”

In the natural lull of the conversation, Tara remembered suddenly that she hadn’t said her favorite American. She mentioned as much. 

“You know it’s nearly impossible for me to keep up with you guys in a conversation?  It’s actually impressive how quickly you go back and forth,” Tara said.

Colin grinned. “Welcome to New York, Tara.”

Tara’s heart fluttered 

“I actually thought we Aussies were the most passionate people. Clearly I was wrong,” Tara added. 

“We get it, you’re Australian,” Isy called from where she was now digging in her gym bag.

Annie had grown impatient.“Okay for real though, who’s your biggest American smash, Tara?”

“Oh, well you guys will probably disagree with this.  But have you guys seen Girls? Or the new Star Wars movie?  Do you know that guy who plays Keylo Ren, Adam Driver? Very attractive.”

The group managed to resuscitate Annabelle just before practice started.

***

The lively conversation between Tara, the girls, and Colin had done wonders to make Tara feel comfortable.  She’d actually forgotten she was wearing flip flops and jeans in a professional dance studio. Unfortunately, as soon as the director and choreographer called the dancers to work, Tara was left watching from the pile of dance bags.  The smell of feet and anxiety over having to watch these successful dancers live their dream made Tara nauseous.

The piano twinkled, the soft patting of pointe sole against wood, and the directors counts of “1,2,3..” left Tara thinking about the academy.  The counselor she saw last year told her that living in the past was unhealthy. Tara knew this. But she really fucking missed dance. She often tried to convince herself she was happy that dance was over.  That now she could relax. She could eat whatever she wanted, sleep in past 7:30 am, no longer had blistered feet. But deep down inside, Tara knew none of this mattered. Because she was put on this Earth to do many things, and dancing was one of those things.  Or, at least it had been.

When Tara looked up from her phone, it was Isy’s solo.  For someone who stomped around their apartment like she had lead for feet, Isy really was a great ballet dancer.  She wasn’t as long and lean as Colin was and her technique didn’t seem perfect. Yet, there was just something about the way she looked as she danced, like she was meant to move and god help anybody who tried to stop her.  She became her character in a way Tara had never seen before.

Isy finished to a round of applause from the other soloists waiting to go.  She gave a bashful smile and quickly returned to her place by the barre. 

The next soloists’ performances were blurs in Tara’s mind as she tried her hardest to picture herself anywhere but there.  She spent what seemed like hours trying to plan out her dinner and when she was going to facetime Sammy. And then practice was stopped for their hour of lunch. God bless.

Tara had to duck and cover as the mad dash for the bags began.  Amid the chaos, an arm reached through the crowd towards her, and Tara gladly accepted the rescue.  Colin dragged her from the crowd, smiling his beautiful smile at her once again. Tara brushed the floor dust off her jeans. 

“Thanks for that,” Tara said.

“Don’t mention it.  Isy and Annie said to tell you they’d be in the locker room, and that you could meet them in there.”

“Is it likely to be crowded?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Best to avoid it then.  We can just wait outside,” Tara said as the pair began walking down the beautiful stone staircase.

Colin hiked his bag’s strap up against his shoulders.  Tara couldn’t help but remember what he’d said earlier about the shoulders being the best part of the guy, and picturing Colin lifting her up Dirty Dancing style.  “Do you have a thing about crowds?” he asked.

“Not really, I just know how hectic dance locker rooms can be.” 

They pushed through the main doors and even though it was summer Tara was glad to be outside.  She could finally breathe. Even if most of the air was car exhaust and farts. 

Colin collapsed onto a step and Tara followed suit. “So, you’re a dancer then?” he asked. 

“Was. I was a dancer,” the simple explanation falling from Tara’s lips for the thousandth time. 

“Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed, seeing as you’re wearing flip flops and all,” Colin said, his face totally serious.

“Oh please don’t mention the shoes.  It’s already my biggest regret,” Tara’s face fell into her hands.

“I’m actually joking, Tara.”

“Really?”

“Of course, you have the posture of a fucking superhuman, obviously you were dancer,” he laughed.

Tara laughed as well, shocked at how easy it was to talk to him.  They sat close on the steps, but weren’t touching. Colin was reclining against the stone stairs in a way that couldn’t be comfortable on his back.  This made Tara like him even more. 

Isy and Annie finally made it outside, each wearing sweatpants and normal tee shirts.

“Tara! Are you ready to hit the job hunt again?” Isy called playfully.

“Never,” Tara replied with a roll of her eyes.

Colin shot up and turned to Tara. “You need a job?”

Tara felt a bit awkward as all eyes turned to her. “Er- yeah. I’ve been looking all week but can’t find anything,” she said.

“My brother Hugh owns a restaurant in midtown. He just had like 3 different waitresses leave so he’s been desperate for someone new!”

“Perfect, if he’s desperate that means he’ll have to take Tara on!” Annie sneered.

“Wow, way to be supportive.” Isy said.

“No, she does have a point....” Tara said , thoughtfully. “Nobody has actually wanted to hire me so far.  So this may work.”

“As long as you can take food orders and get along with the staff, you’ll be great,” Colin assured her.

“And you’re used to being on your feet for hours at a time!” Annie said brightly. 

“If you can get me the job, Colin, this could be great,” Tara was feeling excited.

“Just give my your number, and I’ll pass it along to my brother.”

Tara’s pulse skyrocketed.  She reminded herself to be cool and to not act like she already had a huge pathetic crush on this guy.  They exchanged phones, and when Tara got hers back she read the new contact info Colin put in. He had his name as “Colin-tall dancer” and Tara thought it was adorable that he thought she’d forget him. 

The group walked to lunch and Tara’s shoulders felt lighter than they had in days.  She’d survived seeing a practice, met a cute guy (well met him, not  _ met _ him), and maybe even got a job?  Tara was proud of herself. Maybe there was hope for this summer yet. 


End file.
